A Disturbing Affair
by Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes
Summary: Sherlock discovers something about his father that could ruin the family. Mycroft tires to help him, but Sherlock refuses, and all turns for the worst. Kid!Sherlock, Teen!Mycroft -SHORT STORY


**_A Disturbing Affair_**

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**_This is based on BBC's Sherlock. Mycroft is 18 and Sherlock is 11.  
Sherlock discovers something that could tear the family presence apart. He will never forgive him...  
_**

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Sherlock appeared from the hallway into the living room, where Mycroft was sitting on the leather armchair, studying for his year 12 exams. He looked up from his books to see Sherlock as pale as a sheet. Mycroft ran up to him, bending down to his 11-year-old sibling.

"Brother, dear; what's wrong?" He asked with genuine concern. Sherlock just stared wide-eyed at him.

"Sherlock, please tell me. Otherwise I won't be able to help you," His brother pleaded.

"It's father" Sherlock managed to squeal; his voice breaking as he spoke. Mycroft closed the door to the room and led him to his chair, offering his brother a biscuit, which he kindly refused; that was very unlike Sherlock to refuse food.

He bent down, eye to eye with Sherlock, "What happened?" Mycroft asked sternly. He could see water forming in the younger one's eyes.

"Father, he-" Sherlock was cut off by his own voice; he couldn't get himself to say it out loud. Mycroft knelt there until Sherlock was ready to tell him, it was obviously bothering him. "I saw... father with... another woman".

Mycroft's eyes widened as he stood up and stumbled backwards and backed into the alcohol cabinet, causing a wine glass to fall over.  
"What do you mean?" He was able to stutter after a minute or so.

"After school, I went to go see father at work… but when I entered his office-" Sherlock begun to tear up once again. Mycroft was stunned; how could his dear father do this to the family? Him and mummy were so perfect for each other.

Once he regained himself, he walked over to Sherlock and went to hug him, but Sherlock pushed him back.

"Get away from me!" He yelled, "If you didn't introduce her to father, this never would have happened!" Sherlock's face was tear stained.

Mycroft stood there, shocked and a little saddened that Sherlock had refused his comfort, "Who was it, Sherlock?" He asked softly.

"Mrs Asher!" Sherlock yelled once again, "Your Maths teacher!"

Mycroft realised that Sherlock thought this was his entire fault for introducing Mrs Asher to his father. "I'm not to blame! I never knew this woul-" He tried to explain himself to his younger brother, but he ended up running out of the room and back down the hall, towards the staircase and off to his own room.  
Mycroft started to chase him, but saw his father had exited his study, right in Sherlock's path.

Sherlock ran up to his father and started weakly hitting him on the chest, "How could you do it?" He shouted "How could you do this to your own family?"

After a few more pointless bashes on his father's torso; he finally gave up and ended up weeping over his father's suit. Mr Holmes looked at his youngest, concerned, "What on earth is this all about, eh, Sherly?"

Mycroft just stood a few feet away as his brother told them what he saw.

"You and Mrs Asher!" He yelled, his voice was tired from it all "I saw you and her today! All your clothes were on the floor!" Mr Holmes started going a bright shade of red. For some reason, Mycroft felt this was the end of the family.

"I-…" Mr Holmes was speechless. He never thought his family would be brought into his affair. He looked into his elder son's eyes, pleading for forgiveness; Mycroft refused to give it to him, as did Sherlock.

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Once Mrs Holmes came home, all went to hell. The expensive china was thrown at heads and curse words that not even Mycroft knew were being chucked about. He and Sherlock sat in Mycroft's room upstairs, away from the yelling.

Sherlock sobbed quietly on the bed, "It's all your fault" Sherlock whispered loud enough for his brother to hear. Mycroft stood up from his chair and went over to his brother, grabbing onto his arm hard and narrowing his eyes.

"None of this is my fault. If it's anyone's fault, it should be father's! Anyway, if you didn't mention anything, maybe this never would have happened!" He went back over to his chair and sat back down, looking out the darkened sky while listening to glass shatter across the wall, downstairs.

The silence between them grew. "How did we not see this? How could we not observe?" Sherlock muttered.

Mycroft sighed, "He's smarter than both of us, dear brother... At least, that's what I thought." He sighed once again, feeling his nose painfully tingle as a tear fell its way across his face. They both stayed where they were until all was quiet. Deciding to see what has happened, Mycroft ordered Sherlock to stay there as he went to investigate.

"Mummy?" Mycroft's voice rang out. He entered the kitchen and saw his mother, in her best dress, laying on the floor, crying. He rushed up to her and helped her to sit up.

"He's gone, Brolly" She wailed his pet name, "He left me. He's not coming back". Her 18-year-old son held her in his arms as she cried.

She failed to notice her youngest stand in the kitchen doorway, watching them cry. Surely father was returning, wasn't he? He and Mycroft were still here. Didn't he love us any more?

Sherlock ran up to his room and slammed the door. He grabbed his violin and started playing whatever came to his head. Crying was dull; he had to think. Think of why father had left, why father should come back, why father had cheated in the first place. One thing is for sure, if that this is all Mycroft's fault; and he was never going to forgive him…

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Two years past, Sherlock was now 13 and Mycroft was 20; they were both attending their father's burial. They had only seen him 4 times after the incident. He only visited thrice and the last time was the brothers going to visit him in the hospital.

Mr Holmes had passed away due to stress. His job, social and family life had drained him of energy and had to be taken to the hospital. Mycroft and Sherlock were the only blood relatives that attended. They saw a few of his friends, work mates, Mrs Asher, his first lover and Ms Francis, his second; but he was alone and single when he died

Mycroft didn't understand why father had changed so much; he had so much and he just threw it all away for a fling. It couldnt' have been that bad, we had a lot of money, good jobs, a high payed manor and a loving family- Suddenly, Mycroft found himself not caring any more.

He looked down at Sherlock, and saw that, the same as Mycroft, he was not crying.

"Do you want to leave, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked as he held his umbrella higher in the air, shading them from the wetness.

"But we only just got here" He replied, not too enthusiastically.

"That doesn't answer my question, dear brother". Sherlock looked up at him and nodded.

They both left the funeral without a goodbye. As they walked away, they lowered Mr Holmes' coffin into the ground.

"I will never forgive you" Sherlock muttered once again. Mycroft stopped in his path was Sherlock kept on walking, getting soaking wet in the process. He hadn't heard Sherlock say that for ages. "I don't care," Mycroft whispered back. Caring is not an advantage; but without realising it, he did care. He loved his family and it was breaking his heart to see it all in shambles.

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Ever since then, Mrs Holmes got very sick and depressed and was unable to take care of them both; which only left Mycroft to raise Sherlock.  
Sherlock said he 'deleted' the memory of his father and started getting restless and rude, taking out his blame on everyone he met. Although, Sherlock did mention a boy at school, John Watson. He actually sat down with Mycroft and talked about him often. Mycroft was never really one for same sex couples, but his time with Sherlock was really the only thing keeping him from listening, and from the sounds of it, John was taking Sherlock's mind off everything. But Sherlock never really forgave his brother; Never…

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**I hope you liked it. I wrote it as a request from tumblr. It is inspired by the A Scandal in Belgravia commentary, which Mark and Benedict say that Sherlock discovered something about their father that ruined the family atmosphere (Although they don't actually say what, I assumed it was an affair, so I decided to write it).  
R&R would be lovely!  
And I take requests for short stories- like this one. So message me an idea and a pairing/ main character and I'll add you to the list.**

**Thanks, I hope you enjoyed it!**


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